9th Street Mercado

The sarape wrapped woman
whines tamales
in response to
shoppinbag
man’s pleas

doting nonnas
offer biscotti to
wide eyed ninos

Sal shrieks
Non Toche
as produce mavens
sniff and jab

Vendors trade barbs
all warming their hands
over burning cans

wafts of stoked charcoal
and strong coffee compete

Muffled mariachis seep
from a brown young man’s
suped up truck

The Asian family smiles
quietly clipping grapes

A torn tortilla
straddles the border
between sidewalk
and street

Dancing in the Village Square

When asked what she remembered
Of her home, Grandma faltered

Dancing in the village square
Faint music, laughter
Neighbor’s glasses clinking
Scattered lanterns aglow

Years later I learn
That other girls were dancing
While she ran, clutching
A handful of her life

Waving to empty windows
As darkness pursued her into the woods

Hungry dogs barking

Dusk Descending

The trees are on fire
reddened orange sears the sky
brilliance smoldering

Fleeting light reflects
pure blue, clear white
yellow angles without scorching

Crisp leaves flung
like wanton ashes
as dusk descends

Chilled breeze
carries shadows
in its darkening pockets

My hearth sparks, then crackles
before it retires
under night’s thick blanket

Winter Awakening

S l o w l y
these leaves fade away
like crumpled sponges
just before they’re tossed

shingles reappear
across the street
bricks rebuild themselves
o n e b y o n e

Bits of blue grey whiteness
peek through, almost pressing
against the pane
Wind’s shrill call rattles

As this puzzle completes itself
I await awakening
to my window’s
full view returned